The Systemic Series - Box Set

by K. W. Callahan

  Claire was to act as sole distributor of food stuffs and supplies from both the refrigeration units we’d built for our coolers by the creek – and which were now running perilously low – and the root cellar we’d dug into the hillside at our camp to hold the remainder of our provisions.

  I had talked to Claire about her diabetic supplies and she told me that she easily had a multi-month supply of everything she needed. She was stretching her injections over longer periods through the juice and candy we’d brought with us as well as by watching what she ate and limiting her alcohol intake.

  The alcohol was running low anyway. We’d burned through a lot of it during our first week. The beer was gone, and we were down to two bottles of grain alcohol and about a half gallon of whiskey and a quart of rum. It sounded like a lot, but for nine adults – since we were considering Brian an adult – it wouldn’t last long.

  The coffee was gone, and almost all the meat – with the exception of a few hot dogs, a package of chicken breasts that we’d pre-cooked to keep them from going bad, and dried meats like the beef jerky – was gone too. This was fine with me because such supplies were difficult to keep fresh anyway, and the sooner we consumed them, the better.

  We still had plenty of dried goods, but I estimated they would only last us maybe another two weeks…three if we really stretched them. We were going to go through the starches and canned goods quicker since they just didn’t fill us up the same way meat did.

  Thankfully, since Sharron was a vegetarian, she’d been foraging for all sorts of greens, berries, wild onions, chives, and a variety of roots, nuts, and plants that none of the rest of us even knew were edible. Meanwhile, Steve knew about an old orchard nearby and took the kids there to pick apples.

  Overall, I felt that things were starting to fall into place.

  We’d designated Paul as “Water Boy” and it was his daily duty to go down to the creek, bring back water, boil it in a big pot we’d hung over the campfire and then refill any empty containers with drinkable water. It was actually a pretty important job because we tended to go through quite a bit of water in the summer heat. We explained how important he was to our health and well-being, and built him up, not only in an effort to make him feel good about what he was doing but to instill the importance of killing any bacteria that might be floating in the creek water. Our health was in his hands we told him.

  Sarah was designated as “Stick Girl” and was in charge of collecting twigs, pieces of dead wood, and small logs around the camp and surrounding area for firewood. Brian was “Log Man” and was in charge of finding and cutting up larger logs for the fire.

  Today, Will, Brian and Dad were working on a sort of lean-to shelter built up against the hillside of our camp. We were short on tents and needed more room for everyone. They were cutting poles for supports, chopping logs for walls, and using fresh saplings to drape across the roof, upon which they could lay the thatched roof pieces that the women and kids had created. They really had no idea what they were doing, but it was a good learning experience, and the thing actually came out looking pretty good. They ended up mounding leaves overtop the roof and caking the sides of the structure with creek mud and clay to keep the wind and cold out. The interior was cleared of all growth, rocks, sticks, and debris so that it was just a hard dirt floor. We laid several of the older blankets that my parents had brought along over the dirt. Then we divided the space down the middle, using more of the thatching as a sort of privacy blind since both sets of parents would be sharing this area. Each side got an air mattress, and we left it up to them as to how they’d like to decorate the rest of the interior. It certainly wasn’t pretty, but it worked. We nicknamed it, “The Old Folks Home.”

  Next up on our to-do list was finding a good bathroom area. Up until now we’d just kind of been going wherever, but with this many people around, such carelessness could get out of hand and start endangering our water supply and health in a hurry. Therefore, Will and I spent the afternoon creating an outhouse of sorts around the corner of the hill on the other side of camp. It was close enough to be easily accessible, but secluded enough to be private and away from the creek. We dug a decent-sized hole and used several pieces of plywood we’d found at the property’s back field to cover the hole, cutting holes in the plywood’s center. Then we used a collapsible canvas chair that Mom and Dad had brought along – cutting a hole in its center – as the toilet. We pounded several sturdy poles in around the space, and the women and kids set to work with more of their thatching, which we then affixed to the poles in an effort to provide a privacy blind. When the hole became too full or too disgusting to bear, we figured we’d simply pull the thatching down, move the boards, fill in the hole, and haul everything over to a new location.

  That night, I made a dinner of pasta and sauce flavored with herbs and onions picked by Sharron earlier in the afternoon. We had a dessert of boiled apples sprinkled with some brown sugar my mother had brought. It wasn’t an extravagant meal by any means, but it fed a lot on a little, and I could really stretch one container of pasta sauce, using it more to flavor the noodles rather than as thick gravy. I used some of the ketchup and a little sugar I’d taken from the diner in Avers to stretch the sauce a bit more for all twelve of us. Only Jason complained a little, but at his age, kids complained about most any meal.

  I felt our camp was coming together nicely, and I was actually quite proud of our little community. Everyone was doing something to help, and so far, there’d been little complaining from anyone about our situation or what they’d been asked to do. It was of course certainly a switch from the lives everyone had been living just a week or so prior, but by keeping everyone occupied, I hoped they’d be too busy during the day and too tired at night to do much thinking about the lives they’d left behind.

  I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for right now, this was home.

  CHAPTER 12

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9th

  SOUTHERN ILLINOIS

  Bathing was yet another obstacle we soon found ourselves coming up against. When it’d just been Claire, Jason and me, it hadn’t been any big deal when I stumbled across my half-naked wife washing herself in the creek. In fact, it was quite a joy. However, now that we had multiple parts of the larger family unit all here together, getting some private time down at the ‘ol swimmin’ hole – especially with little Paul trucking back and forth on his water runs at all hours of the day – was becoming somewhat problematic.

  Therefore, a couple hours after breakfast, Claire and I left Jason with the grandparents and went on a scouting mission downstream to look for a more secluded bathing area where people could relax for at least a few minutes away from the rest of the group.

  It was a lovely morning for a walk. It had cooled down dramatically during the night and a light mist clung to the forest floor. Another layer hung high up in the trees. Sunlight filtered through this second layer creating beautifully smoky rays. We determined that even if we found a good bathing spot nearby, we’d continue down the creek for a ways just to check it out and enjoy some alone time together.

  I let Claire lead the way. She looked so cute, tromping along in hiking boots and khaki shorts that hugged her butt snugly and that ended just a few short inches past the curvature of her rounded little bottom. She wore one of my long-sleeved plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a knot binding its extra length up around her midriff so that just an inch or two of smooth white belly prevailed. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail to reveal a strong jawbone that met with her thin feminine neck.

  She knew exactly what she was doing.

  Maybe a hundred yards downstream from the pool that acted as our current bathing area, we found another nice spot. This one was a deeper pool sunken into the creek so that the banks rose at least five or six feet on either side. Just past this was a small waterfall, maybe five feet high but with enough height so that the water poured over it with good force.

  “Looks like w
e’ve found our bath and our shower,” I said, nodding at the little water fall.

  “Just make sure you shower first, otherwise you’ll be showering in your own bath water,” Claire smiled.

  “Mission complete,” I nodded. “Now lets find out what else there is to see.”

  I moved up beside Claire and took her hand in mine. We walked hand-in-hand down the creek for maybe another half mile until we came to a point where the creek met with a river. It wasn’t a big river, maybe 40 feet across at its widest section, but it appeared to run deep.

  Across the creek from us, just past where the creek’s mouth met with the river, there was a bend in the river where several sets of large boulders were piled atop one another.

  “Let’s go sit over there,” I pointed to the rocks. “Looks like a nice spot to watch the water and relax for a few minutes.”

  Claire nodded and started to remove her boots. I followed suit. We tied our shoestrings together, slung our bound boots over our shoulders, and then I helped guide her safely across the creek’s mouth and over to the first large boulder. It was a big one, almost as tall as Claire, but there was a step of sorts worn into the rock about halfway up.

  Claire put her sweet little bare foot into the divot. I took quick notice that the last bit of nail polish from the pedicures of our previous existence was almost worn away.

  “Give me a boost?” she said, looking back at me over her shoulder and reaching up to take hold of the top of the boulder. She arched her back slightly so that her butt was presented to me.

  I just smiled, got a good grip, and gave her a good squeeze and then a push as she pulled herself up onto the top of the boulder.

  I followed close behind as she made it up onto the next rock on her own and then moved to an area where the top of one massive boulder created a smooth, table-sized flat spot large enough for us both to sit comfortably and look out over the water.

  I sat down beside Claire. The water below us was slowed by the curve of the river’s course.

  “Woo!” she said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Good morning workout,” she laughed softly, undoing the first few buttons of her shirt, then continuing all the way down until she could shrug out of it completely. She paused halfway through to look over at me. “Oh…you don’t mind, do you?” she asked coyly.

  I just smiled and shook my head, playing the disinterested party, “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

  There she was, one of the most amazing creatures I’d ever laid eyes upon, sitting beside me, legs drawn up in front of her where they gleamed in the sunlight, taught belly with just a small roll of skin where thorax met abdomen. Her perfect breasts were squeezed into a bra that was one size too small and that shoved her boobs into bustier-styled pleasure mounds. I knew she wore it just to get me going.

  But I was playing hard to get. I knew she was in need of my attentions, and I of hers, but as with any good lover, I wasn’t giving in just yet. I wanted to slow the process, delay our gratification, intensify the experience, and test our limits of endurance by fortifying our desire.

  Finally, after another minute or so, I put my hand on her knee and squeezed, running it slowly up her inner thigh. I looked over at her. She was looking at me. Our eyes locked with intensity and we knew it was time.

  We did it right there on the rock, our passion displacing any discomfort wrought by our stony bed.

  After we finished, we sat side-by-side, naked, rejuvenated, refreshed, exhausted, pleased with ourselves.

  “I think I’ll go for a swim,” Claire said, popping up to her feet.

  “Okay,” I breathed, still in a sex-induced half-coma of pleasure, not fully comprehending her words but agreeing nonetheless.

  She looked down at the river that ran about five feet below, stepped to the edge of the rock, and jumped.

  The foolishness of the act immediately wrenched me from my daze.

  “Claire!” I exclaimed, reaching out after her. But she was already gone, splashing into the water and going under before I could stand fully upright.

  I couldn’t believe she had done it. Typically Claire was very sensible about doing silly or dangerous things. Maybe the uninhibited sex out in the open had momentarily done something to her brain. But my fears were quelled as she popped up just downriver of the rocks by a small logjam next to the shore. She was smiling and fresh faced…that is until she noticed her hair.

  I stood horrified. She looked like Medusa. Her matted locks were writhing and wriggling as tiny serpents attempted to extract themselves. Claire’s face went from pure delight to sheer terror in a heartbeat. I’m sure they heard the screams all the way back at camp. I’ve never seen Claire move so fast. She was out of the water and back up on the shore in a matter of seconds, ripping and tearing at her head.

  She was shedding snakes and clumps of hair like crazy. By the time I got there, she was snake-free but was screaming and crying like a child while still pulling at her hair as she continued her frantic serpent search.

  “It’s okay,” I grabbed her, wrapping my arms around her tight and pulling her close. “It’s okay,” I soothed, leading her back to the rocks.

  She was trembling and breathing in short bursts, trying to catch her breath.

  We stood, naked, clinging to one another. I did my best to envelop her in my arms to help provide her with some sense of security.

  “Come on,” I said, leading her slowly over to a rock upon which she could sit. She was shaking so hard, I was afraid she’d pass out from shock. Her face was pale, her eyes still wide with fear.

  It was then that I noticed her hand. “Did one get you?” I asked, taking her hand in mine, already knowing the answer as I looked at the red swollen area with two small puncture wounds.

  I didn’t wait for her to respond. I shot back up to the top of the rocks, grabbed our clothes, and threw my pants and boots back on. I came back and put Claire’s shirt around her shoulders, buttoning one button. Next, I pulled her shorts up around her legs and buttoned them. Then I hustled back over to where she had climbed from the river to make a quick inspection. I scanned the area where she had stood freeing herself of the snakes and found what I was looking for writhing nearby. Intertwined with and still working to free itself from strands of Claire’s hair was a baby water moccasin. “Fucker!” I spat, stomping its head angrily with a boot. It’s wiggling slowly ceased.

  I rushed back over to where Claire sat, softly sobbing and holding her injured hand. I knelt beside her and quickly undid one of the laces from her boot. “What were you thinking? Why would you do something like that?” I said, not so much angry at Claire as angry at the fear I was feeling for her. I used the lace to tie around her wrist as a tourniquet to slow the spread of the venom. I was no snake-bite expert, but I’d seen similar things done in the movies and on television, so I figured it couldn’t hurt. She just shook her head, sobbing.

  “Let’s go,” I said, not waiting for her to answer. I helped her to her feet. I knew it was going to be a long way back to camp, but my adrenaline was flowing and I didn’t hesitate. I scooped her up in my arms. “Just hang in there,” I said, shoving all my other feelings aside and giving her my most confident smile.

  “John…no, I can walk,” she made an attempt to get free.

  “I don’t want the venom spreading through your body any faster than it already is by you exerting yourself,” I said. “I can do this.”

  And I did. While I had to stop for a minute to catch my breath along the way, I carried Claire all the way back to camp. I felt like I was going to die. It was like one of those stories you hear about a mother who lifts a car off her crushed child or similar inhuman feat of strength that is only possible under extreme circumstances.

  I did my best to talk to Claire along the way, heaving out a few words between gasps for air to keep her focused on anything but the snake bite. I’d never been bitten by a snake. I didn’t know anyone who had been bitten by a snake. And I had no idea what the effects of t
his particular bite might be. By the time we made it back to camp, Claire was almost unconscious. The parents were all waiting for us, looking panicked, indeed having heard Claire’s distant screams.

  Steve, her father, was there first. “What happened?” he asked, his concerned eyes betraying his relatively calm demeanor.

  “Bit by a snake,” I said, laying Claire on the ground and dropping exhaustedly beside her.

  “What kind?” asked her father.

  I shook my head, gasping for breath, then managed, “Water…moccasin.”

  “Big one?” he asked, looking at her hand to which I had pointed.

  I shook my head “no.” “Baby,” I gasped. “Got in her hair…while she was…swimming.”

  He looked relieved, nodding. “She’ll be alright,” he said. “Going to be a rough day for her, but I’ve seen this before…been through it before actually. Got bit when I was a kid down here. Sucks, and hurts like hell, but she’ll make it. Going to have a pretty messed up hand for a while though.”

  Claire was still semi-conscious and moving, but she looked very pale. “I feel sick,” she said suddenly, rolling over on her side and vomiting.

  “She must be in shock, poor thing,” my mother said.

  I nodded, finally starting to recover from the trip back, “You would be too. She jumped in the water and came up right into a nest of the things. Lucky she only got bit once. Had them all stuck in her hair. It was horrible and scared the living daylights out of her.”

  Both moms shivered at the thought.

  I hiked back to the spot later in the day and retrieved the rest of our clothing and Claire’s boots. Thankfully, the kids had been out with my father apple hunting, so they missed the entire episode, but it made for a great story around the campfire once Claire had recovered enough to tell it. I left it to her to tell since she had been the one to suffer through it. Her hand was bruised and swollen around the bite marks and she had a few muscle spasms and a lot of pain in her hand throughout the night, but we wrapped it up well and dosed her up on some aspirin we’d brought along. More than anything, she was mad about the bald spot she’d made on her head when trying to remove the snakes.